


Shield, Agent

by jadedglitter331



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Protective Steve, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-03-26 18:37:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13863612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadedglitter331/pseuds/jadedglitter331
Summary: First Name: Agent Last Name: Shield.She has a bad habit of being in the wrong place at the right time, and getting caught up in the weirdest shit. She enjoys pissing of Fury, and cheering up the people in the Med bay.





	1. Elevator Music

**Author's Note:**

> Another self indulgent bit of crack, but I'm blaming someone else for it.

"Before we get started, does anybody want out?"

Steve stood patiently in the crowded elevator, waiting for someone to make a move. Nearly everyone in the cramped space was sweating, fidgeting, fight or flight instincts roaring. He was itching to throw some punches, but he didn't want to hurt anyone who wasn't one of the bad guys. HYDRA was known for turning prisoners into weapons, after all. 

A confused voice pipped up from somewhere in the back of the elevator. 

"Ah, me?" 

The men in the elevator turned as one, staring at the small woman behind them. She looked like a secretary, A tray of coffee in one hand, a stack of files in the other. 

"I just need to drop these of in the 503 conference room." She smiled, a bit nervous, a bit unsure, but still cheerful. 

Steve eyed her critically. She wasn't sweating, and her constant shifting was in effort to keep the coffee and papers from spilling over. Black pumps that were cheaply made and useless in a fight, hair left loose without even a clip to keep it out of the way. The lines of her blouse and slacks were smooth, the only things stored in her pockets were a pen and a cellphone. 

"Of course ma'am." The Captain said, moving out of her way. The rest of the people in the elevator followed suit, shuffling to make a clear path to the doors. 

She smiled again in thanks, and made her way out trying not to drop anything, apologizing.

"You guys have fun okay?" She said cheerfully as she got off. "Bye, Cap, huge fan!" She whispered before the doors closed.

Steve stood staring at the doors for several minuets before turning an accusing glare on the others. The woman had to be a level one or two at the most, and they had almost had a brawl right in here with her there. Rumlow shook his head, and muttered something about just killing her anyway. Steve punched him, and then they got started.


	2. Hospital Food is Gross

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barnes is in SHIELD MedBay recovering, and there was no Civil War, because Steve actually did the right thing and told Tony about his parents.

The steady beep, beep, beeping of the machines was grounding. Hydra's machines didn't have a steady beep like that. The little platic clip on his finger that monitored his heart was hamless, uninvasive. It sat innocently on his finger, measuring the thumping of his heart. The bed beneath him actually had a mattress, and the thin, slightly rough blankets in his lap were a soft blue. They had small, winding pictures of flowers. They were clean. There were windows in his room. They had curtains that were a soft brown, and the curtains were open. The plastic blinds were open too, and even though he knew the window was locked, there were no bars. It was four stories down to the park below. He could see out of the window. It was clean too. 

The nurses and doctors that came to see him were also clean. They usually wore scrubs in soft greens or blues. He remembered one young nurse who had black and a bright pink. She had been scared of him, but had smiled at him anyway. She had asked if it was okay if she touched him. They always asked, and they didn't hurt him if he said no. They didn't touch him if he said no. They gave him choices, and eventually he found out there weren't any wrong answers to the choices. They gave him choices about food. They gave him a list of the food in the cafeteria, and brought him what he picked. He could eat however much off the tray that he wanted. He could eat from that tray whenever he wanted, and the people that came to clean asked him if he was done before they took it. They gave him a bathroom. They asked if he wanted helping using the toilet, and asked if he wanted help using the shower. There was a shower, and it had hot and cold water. He could move the knobs and make it hot, make it cold, make it warm. He could make it push out a lot of water, or only a little. He could do that. He could do a lot of things here. 

 

Sometime in the afternoon, after they had brought him the lunch tray, there was a knock at the door. He waited, wondering if this was the day they would decide he didn't get choices anymore, the day they tallied up the score and deicided he had made too many wrong ones, and they were going to wipe him again. The knock came again, just as gentle as the first, and whoever was on the other side didn't make a sound. He cleared his throat.

"Come in." It came out rough, he still wasn't used to talking so much. He didn't used to talk, unless they wanted him to tell them something.

A woman poked her head in. She was young, her hair was in a dissarray that said she was busy today, and her slacks and white blouse said she wasn't a part of the hospital.

"Hi, I'm Elaina," She smiled brightly, holding up the shield badge hanging from the lanyard around her neck. "I just came by to visit and see how you're doing. Do you mind if I come in? I brought you some flowers, too." 

She waited for him to answer, and the express on her face didn't change at all, even when he drug out the silence, just to see what she would do. 

"Sure."

Her smile got bigger, and she stepped fully into the room. The vase was filled with at least five different kinds of wildflowers, and she sat it on the side table below the window. The flowers were on the edge of the patch of sunlight, so he could see them and look out the window at the same time. She didn't have a clipboard or any kind of paperwork. A once over revealed she didn't even have a cellphone or audio recorder. No bugs, and no weapons. Just flowers and a smile. She sat down in the chair on his other side, leaving a clear path to the door, and asked, "So, how's the hospital food?"


	3. It's a Party up in Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's pretty short, but I thought it would be cute.

It was Furys' anniversary. He'd now been the Director of SHIELD for yet another decade, and Elaina decided he deserved a party. Director Fury, as a rule, did not like parties or unnecessary distractions of any kind in the workplace. Nicholas J. Fury, as a person, had unfortunately had very few parties in his life. She decided to compromise, and, with the help of Mr. Stark and Agent Hill, got him a cake in a flavor that he preferred, some balloons that while brightly colored and artfully arranged, would not demand the attention of an entire room. They opted against shouting 'surprise', but did ask him to come see them in conference room 728 when he had the time, and no, it was not a national, international, or interdimensional emergency. 

Hill had contacted him a half hour later on a private line, and informed him that he needed to come to the conference room so that Tony Stark could have cake and annoy the only parental figure he had left who hadn't died and/or betrayed him. Fury swore, and marched his way to the elevator. 

The 'party' now consisted of four people, and Fury was not amused. He frowned, and scowled, and cursed them to heaven and back while eating lemon cake. He shouldn't have been wasting his time celebrating him doing his job right. It was his job, after all, even if there were few who appreciated it. Coulson was on a mission with Barton and Romanov, but had left him an encrypted message that, like the icing on the cake, congratulated and thanked him for his years running this shit-show of a circus. 

Elaina was good at picking back-up, he conceded. Hill was one of the few he trusted to hold as many cards as she did, and Tony was an annoying nephew he would always pretend he didn't like. Howard he hadn't liked at all. The balloons he did like. Elaina smiled at him, and he made a mental note to put her in one of the higher levels for awhile. She hated being in charge of anything, and grounding her from her precious cubicle would teach her to keep from throwing him unauthorized parties. With any luck, she wouldn't throw him another one until he retirement party. It would have to be grave-side, of course, but he wouldn't have to be worried about what kind of prank Tony would pull or what kind of idiotic ideas the security council would pull out of their asses. He was still shaking his head at the lets-nuke-New-York bid. Thank God for Tony Stark. He'd been giving Fury heart attacks for almost forty years, but he was quite happy to have him still in his life.


End file.
